


Just A Man Named Gatsby

by thecattydddy



Category: Great Gatsby - F. Scott Fitzgerald, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1920s slang, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Hetalia OCs, Illegal Activities, Multi, State OCS
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-26
Updated: 2015-03-26
Packaged: 2018-03-19 19:30:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 917
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3621585
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thecattydddy/pseuds/thecattydddy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"Who is he?" I demanded. "Do you know?"</i>
  <br/>
  <i>"He's just a man named Gatsby"</i>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Lovino, seeking an escape from the difficulties left at home by his brother and the rest of Europe, gets himself a one way ticket to America where he meets the excitable personification, Alfred. Alfred spares no expense at showing him the true life New York City has to offer, and, at the center of its splendor, there seems to be a man named Gatsby. It seems like the party will never stop for the duo, but in reality all good things must come to an end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Man Named Gatsby

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! Welcome and thanks for taking interest in my story. I've gotta warn you, this is going to be mostly self-indulgence stuff in this story, hence my OTP and the inclusion of state OCs - particularly my New York OC, Ellis Anthony. If you like it, then cool, but if not that's okay, too. I'd love to hear any criticism you have, I guess, but only if it has some educational benefit. If you can't tell me _exactly_ what you don't like, please don't bother.

It was the first time that I’d stepped off the ship that I met Alfred. For years prior, my younger brother and I had been at one another’s throats and I had taken the first opportunity to get as far away from him as I possibly could. It didn’t matter to me that streets lined with gold were just rumors, nor the stories of the young and previously isolated nation that Feliciano had crafted or prompted others to tell. I regretted not telling my little brother goodbye, almost immediately, and was having second thoughts about halfway into the journey, but somehow the excited attitudes of a large handful of my people also aboard kept me from going crazy. To them, this was a chance at a new life and I tried to latch a little onto that feeling to ebb away the seasickness. I was moderately successful.

Of course, the first thing one saw was always the lady. She stood there, proudly, and welcomed in the plethora of newcomers like old friends. People rushed topside to see her, caught in awe at the sight before them. France had shown me his own sometime before I’d left, claiming he’d saved the better of the two for himself, naturally, but I was doubtful. The French version seemed tainted and far too European for his own tastes, despite coming from it. The Lady Liberty upon the harbor of New York was far more tasteful. She promised hope that Europe had seemed to fail him. Even as they began to move beyond her, I couldn’t help but try and catch one final glance in her direction. It was the first and the last time I could claim something French was beautiful and, as I later found out, it had been built primarily by the American people, anyways. Only the frilly European would send a gift to someone in pieces.

And then the boat had drawn closer to shore. I rushed to get my things - The few that I’d thought to bring with me - And joined the throng of people departing onto shore. The eagerness of a small family with a child or two to spare sent me falling, landing with a grunt on the stone pathway and losing my hat in the process. Someone approached me, picking it up and dusting it off before offering a hand in my direction. I followed the hand to a face, which seemed to be smiling back at me.

“Hey,” they greeted, fingers wiggling in invitation, “Need a hand?”

I was instantly apprehensive about this individual, who I could tell simply by looking at him that he was one of us. It was a quirk of mine you could say, not to trust those like us. They always seemed to stab you in the back when it mattered most. Ignoring his offered hand, I righted myself and brushed my front down before reaching my hand out for the hat. He handed it over without complaint, seemingly unaffected by the rude reaction to his offer.

“You must be America,” I concluded, placing my hat in its proper place and recollecting my things in either hand.

“Ah... Well, yes, but it would be the bee’s knees if you called me Alfred - At least in public,” the other’s smile wavered slightly in embarrassment. I eyed him, suspiciously. I knew a fair share of English from speaking with the Brit on an unfortunate occasion here and there, but half the things he seemed to say sounded completely random, “It is... Uncustomary to call one another our nation names, here. Most people don’t exactly... Know about our kind on this side of the ocean.” I had frowned at this. What kind of respectable country wasn’t recognizable from any other person? Surely, the people had realized they were different... That they were special. I voiced this sentiment.

“Ha! Not really,” Alfred shrugged, “And I’ve never much cared for being a Big Cheese. At most I just seem like an old friend or a former neighbor or something. When I was still a colony, word never really got around that there was a representation like me ‘cuz Artie was never around to tell people and I was too young to really get it. As far as I know it, Mattie and Maria were in pretty much the same boat.” I didn’t recognize the names, but I knew vaguely of the countries surrounding the bubbly one before me and assumed he was referring to them.

“Fine, _Alfred_. I’m... Lovino,” the name felt unfamiliar coming off my tongue, since it was used so rarely, but I relented in this instance. There would be plenty of time to fight my host, later. I wasn’t quite sure how long I would be staying, but I figured it’d be a good long while.

“Lovino,” he repeated it a few times, letting the name roll off his tongue in an almost chant-like way. I was certain I heard it more in those few moments than I had in centuries, “ _Looovvviinnnooo..._ ”

“Okay, Bastard... You don’t have to wear it out,” I grumbled, shoving some of my things into his hands, “Where to from here?” He caught my things with ease and flashed my a blinding grin, nodding his head in a seemingly random direction. There was most definitely a mischievous twinkle in his eye at this point.

"We gotta whole country before us, Sheik. We can go to any joint from here to Cali, so... Where you wanna start?”


End file.
